Chapter Text
* * *
A man goes far to find out what he is—
Death of the self in a long, tearless night,
All natural shapes blazing unnatural light.
― Theodore Roethke, “In A Dark Time”
* * *
When the light of Telperion and Laurelin faltered there on the edge of the evening sky, flickering like two flames caught within the surge of a wind in the eye of a tempest, Mairon cast his gaze toward it. He paused amidst his easy walk across the grassy knoll, his cloak swinging low around his boots.
He had slipped away from the high feast unseen, knowing of what was to come and how it would be brought about—it was part of his master’s plan, after all. The clashing lights resonated like two heartbeats, beating in and out of existence as they darkened, as they dimmed, the azure and gold bleeding together as Ungoliant devoured the roots. Their sap was their light, and she feasted upon it like a ravenous beast, and in their place a new creation crept into the world. The Unlight of Ungoliant, a vast web of darkness with its own essence that even the Valar had no power with which to fight it.
No light could escape its endless hunger, nor penetrate its inky depths, not even the light which resided in the leaves of Telperion and Laurelin themselves. For the Unlight was not a lack of light, but a thing in and of itself. It was a being of its own—a darkness with life brewing inside of it, and nothing could withstand its power.
From that small, inconspicuous grassy knoll, Mairon watched as the life, light, and love was drained from the world on the mound of Ezellohar. Even in the far distance, he could see Melkor’s black spear raised in the air, dripping with the blood of the trees on its tip. He could see the great spider, Ungoliant, twitching as she feasted upon the sap, sucking it all up through her beak to her insatiable belly.
He turned away from the sight, and kept walking.
At first, it was only the light that bled from the sky, and Mairon—knowing what it was—still kept up his steady pace. It was not until a deep, rumbling groan arose as if from a chasm cleaved into the center of the earth, sounding from horizon to horizon and drowning out all other noise, that Mairon looked up at last and realized it came from the sky, not from the earth. There, high above him in the fabric of darkness, a seam split the sky in two. Blackness poured out from it, and following that, an ungodly, primordial clamor.
The wind surged around, picking up speed, and his heart quickened with it.
Mairon hurried to the stables, seizing one of the horses and mounting its back. Snapping the reins, he tore off in a hurry toward the coast to Eldamar.
The wind roared in his ears, and the cries of the darkness behind him rose like a crest in a song, filling the air with untold horrors, screams, and shrieks. A boom shook the ground like a fist pounding into the dirt, and his horse stumbled and nearly threw him. He gathered his wits about him, and made straight for the coastline, his horse ripping through the air with an urgency that came from his master.
Mairon could see the swarm of torches before he got there, pulling back on the reins and his horse skidding to a halt. His mouth fell open, a deep pit opening at the bottom of his stomach as he heard the screams of the Elves, the slaughter taking place in the city. Swords, spears, and blood. The torches burned brightly, and red droplets fell in tandem from the blades as they rose again. Melkor’s forces were already here, ensuring no fight came to him from the coast.
No, Mairon thought, snapping the reins again. He tore off at an endless speed, almost running his horse to death, until he reached the edge of the houses. He leapt off the horse, tying it up, and slipped into the darkness between the homes.
This side of the city had been hit first. Bodies lay in the streets, rivers of blood flowing beneath his boots. His master’s reign. One of blood, death, and destruction. He had long accepted this part of it. For his freedom, it had been worth it. For his freedom, he would deign to the convention of any domain—even that of madness.
And what was this, if not utter madness?
Mairon stepped easily and slowly through the bodies, his ears perking up at the quiet sobs from within one of the homes. He turned toward it.
The door was open when he reached it, his hand falling softly upon the knob. He pushed it open further, and the heavy hinges creaked in the silence, startling the little source of the sobs. A gasp, and then a scuttle. Mairon glanced through the interior, catching the glint of gold in the little girl’s hair as she scurried away from him in an attempt to hide. He stepped inside of the home, seeing the dead bodies strewn across the floor. All hacked to bits and pieces. Blood everywhere.
He looked over at the display case behind which she hid herself, and saw as she turned her head toward him, her face half hidden from sight beneath her forearm as she crouched down. An Elf, but only a child.
Mairon held up his palm at her, stepping forward into the room with slow assurance. Carefully, he made his way through the bodies.
“Hara máriessë,” he spoke softly, not wanting to startle her.
From her vantage point behind the display case, she peered at him. She lifted her head a little more, wondering behind her eyes if she could trust him—or if he would kill her as they had killed the rest of her family.
He made it all the way to her, a few feet from her hiding place, and crouched down himself. He held out his hand to her. “Hara máriessë,” Mairon repeated in a murmur, and she looked at his hand. She seemed unsure if she should trust him, or if she even could, until he did the one thing that earned her unconditional trust. “Artanis,” he whispered, and a little gasp escaped her pretty pink lips. She raised her chin, looking him directly in the eyes.
Slowly, she reached out for his hand, sliding her tiny palm against his.
Mairon helped her to stand, and then he slid his arm beneath the bend of her knees before scooping Artanis into his arms. She was not that little. She was on the cusp of womanhood, but not quite there yet, and tall for her age. She clutched to his neck as he walked her out of that house of death. Mairon weaved them through the dark spaces in between the buildings, where none of the torchlight could reach.
He set Artanis on top of his horse, and climbed up behind her.
He raised his arms on either side of her lithe body, locking her in place in front of him, and grasped the reins. Mairon snapped the leather straps as more shrieks rose into the air in a cacophony of agony.
His horse dashed away from the seashore as blood mingled with the salt of the sea, changing the world as they knew it forever.
Mairon had taken Artanis from her home, and he absconded away with her in the madness in order to hide her. He was one of Melkor’s most trusted advisors. They would not come to his home. They would not attack it. He was one of them. He had to get Artanis to safety away from their blades, away from their voracious appetites for lust and brutality. The little Elf fit easily into his arms when he lowered her from the horse, and he carried her into his home to keep his hands on her. They itched for the touch.
She cried when he cleaned the blood from her skin. It was not her blood; it belonged to someone else, one of her family members whose dead body she clung to, sobbing her heart out as if it would bring them back to life.
“How do you know my name?” Artanis finally asked him through the tears, and with her free hand, she swept the streaks from her cheeks.
Mairon paused in washing the blood from her other hand. He had been cleaning it meticulously out from underneath the tips of her elegant white nails with a wet cloth. Slowly, he heaved out a breath and looked up at her. His hand reached out to replace hers, dashing away each tear from her cheeks with the pad of his thumb.
“I am your family,” he lied effortlessly, gazing in her eyes.
It took her a moment, but Artanis smiled at him. It was a weak smile, but she believed him—and that was all that mattered. She wound each arm around his neck and fell against him, fell into him, and she fit against him like a puzzle piece clicking into all the right places. His arms rose to embrace her, his hand coming to rest at the back of her head. They held each other like that for some time in a long stretch of silence, and Mairon closed his eyes and tilted his face toward her hair. He buried his nose in it, drawing in a deep breath.
Artanis smelled like daffodils drenched in sunlight and honey, glistening gold with the morning dew.
He clenched his fingers around her small frame down at her waist, cinching the fabric in his grip, as the hand on her hair slipped through her long, soft locks to touch the bare flesh at the nape of her slender neck. Mairon had been watching her from afar for years. He had followed almost every footstep Artanis had made when he had the time, or the influence, to do so. Sometimes he had trailed behind her with soft footfalls outside of her earshot, watching her run and laugh and play. Sometimes he had closed his eyes and reached out with the power of his mind to see her. He had been dreaming of this day for a long time, and now, here she was. In his arms.
Mairon grasped her neck in a feather light touch, his fingers encircling her throat in a possessive hold.
One that Artanis never even noticed as she sighed softly into the crook of his neck.
* * *
Despite the terror of Melkor’s reign and the endless slaughter of Elves who refused to bow before him that inevitably followed it, here in Mairon’s home hidden away in the mountains from the rest of the world, he sequestered Artanis from the worst of it all.
Mairon pretended a different kind of existence here with her. It was a picturesque cottage sheltered in between the rocks of a steep ravine, concealed from sight. Even though there was no more light in the sky, only the Unlight, which now covered all of Aman in a second darkness—it was still beautiful here. Despite the horrors Melkor had unleashed onto the world from the Void through the Door of Night, chasing away even the Valar from their homes and back into the sky from whence they came, here with Artanis, it was a paradise to Mairon. Her presence made it ever the more beautiful to him.
He could withstand any darkness as long as she was here with him, his guiding light. His little Elf.
His Artanis.
“Uncle Mairon!” Artanis called out, rushing through the house straight to him. Over her time of living with him, she had grown to call him that, even though he was not her uncle. It was a formality at best because he was older than her. He could not be her father, nor did he look old enough to be her grandfather, so Artanis picked the next best thing—an uncle.
The first time she had called him that, she was sitting in his lap as he brushed through the long tresses of her golden hair—as golden as the light of Laurelin had been when it still blazed brightly within the leaves. Mairon remembered the radiance of it. It was etched into the back of his eyes like fire burned into wood, preserving the memory of it forever within him—but when he looked at her hair, he thought it was more beautiful than Laurelin had ever been. As blasphemous as the thought was to have, he still had it.
He had paused at the time, frozen by the title she had given him, and had wondered if he should correct her. He had told her he was her family, though, and if it had brought her comfort, well then, what was the harm?
He shook the memory from his head, and answered her.
“Yes, Artanis?” he called back.
She came hurrying around the corner, all flushed cheeks and heaving breaths accentuated by the rise and fall of her bosom beneath her dress. Artanis skidded to a graceful halt in front of him, her hair whipping against her shoulders. It was an offense how pink her face was, how red her lips were, and he imagined caressing her plump bottom lip with his thumb, but he pushed away the thought as he glanced down at her proffered hand—elegant, lithe little fingers, holding out one of the bracelets he had made for her. The clasp was broken.
“I broke it,” Artanis admitted sheepishly. “I’m sorry.”
Mairon hummed in response as he slipped the trinket from her fingers, lifting it into the air to examine it. The clasp was indeed broken, and he ushered Artanis along to follow him as he began to walk, his free hand sliding down into the small of her back. He slotted his hand easily there like it belonged, the tips of his fingers resting against the curve of her bottom. She was a luscious, curvy little thing. Her hips swayed with every movement when she walked. He gazed down at her, watching it, instead of looking ahead. Besides, it was his house. He knew the way.
He guided Artanis in front of him as they headed into his workshop. Mairon’s teeth dug into his lip as she maneuvered dutifully at the insistence of his fingertips pushing into her. Artanis only stopped when he stopped. Such an obedient thing. When his hand fell from her and his eyes returned to the trinket, Artanis turned around and glanced up at him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her inquisitive expression.
“Can you fix it?” she asked, hopeful.
“Of course,” Mairon replied with assurance. “I can fix anything.” He looked over at the tools sitting neatly in their compartments, and then he reached for one of the delicate sets of pliers. Mairon sat down in the chair, holding both the bracelet and the pliers in one of his hands, and he patted his leg with the other. “Come,” he ushered Artanis, meaning for her to sit in his lap. She did it all the time, but as she was getting older, she looked more uncertain these days.
He maintained eye contact and waited patiently until she glanced down in a sign of submission and walked over to him, turning her back to him before bending to sit down.
Mairon closed his eyes, his mind going to a dark place as Artanis settled into his lap, wiggling to find a comfortable position. He wanted to strip off her dress and bend her forward, sheath her little body right onto his cock and watch her bounce on it as he held her in place by the shoulder. He entertained the thought all the time in his bed at night as he stroked himself to completion and spent himself onto the muscles of his abdomen, but he had yet to ever touch her in such a way. He wondered how long he could wait. Opening his eyes, he leaned forward and rested his chin on her shoulder, holding up the bracelet in front of her, so she could watch him repair the clasp on the bracelet.
He took his time. It was a quick fix, but he wanted her warm little ass to stay put, and stay put she did. She did it so well. When it was done, he gently placed the pliers down onto the table, and took her wrist into his hand. With fingers that knew their way around the most intricate of tasks, he curled the bracelet around her delicate wrist and hooked it in place, allowing his fingers to graze her slowly in every way possible.
Artanis shivered beneath his purposeful touch, wiggling further into his lap.
Mairon had to stifle a groan.
She turned to look at him, the sweetest of smiles on her young face. “Thank you,” she whispered, giving him a peck on the cheek for his good deed. She was always so thankful for him. Her gratefulness was ingrained a long time ago from the moment he had scooped her up into his arms and carried her away from that house. He had rescued her, and she had never forgotten that he had saved her.
“You’re welcome, sweet one,” Mairon murmured back, the corner of his lip curling upward into a partial smile.
Artanis grinned at him. Always so grateful, and she should be—he had saved her, after all.
All for himself, of course, but it did not matter why. All that mattered was that he had done it, and she was his now. She might not have known to what extent, but one day she would know the full breadth of what he wanted from her—what he wanted of her.
Mairon reached forward, his thumb catching on the middle of her bottom lip. Her smile vanished, but her lips parted in surprise. He dipped the digit forward, just a fraction of an inch, and pulled her lip downward with the lowering motion of his thumb. As soon as his thumb left her lip, it bounced back in place. Artanis inhaled with a sudden intake of air.
He risked it. He leaned toward her in that moment, his eyelids drifting halfway to a close, and pressed a soft peck to her lips. Just a simple touch of flesh to flesh. Nothing more, and then he pulled back, and the moment was over.
He opened his eyes again. Her little bosom, so little in comparison to the wide breadth of her hips, heaved up and down so prettily.
Artanis liked it.
Mairon did not press for more. He merely smiled at her and caressed the side of her face with the back of his fingers—before bopping her on the nose with the tip of his index finger. Artanis giggled, and Mairon grinned at her.
Oh, how he loved the sound of that.
* * *
Mairon spied on her in the bath more times than he ever bothered, or even cared, to count. Artanis never closed the door. For the life of him, he had yet to figure that out. Perhaps it was her innocence peeking through, thinking him her family and therefore no bearer of lecherous inclinations toward her. Sometimes he wondered if Artanis even knew what a lecherous inclination was until she tipped her head back one day and made a perfect little circle with her lips, a soft moan escaping her mouth as she slipped further down into the cover of the water.
His eyes fell lower, catching the way her arm moved beneath the surface as she touched herself—no, pleasured herself.
Instantly, he wanted her know what she was thinking about. Was she thinking of him? Did she know of any other face? She had seen none but his for so many years. There was no way she was recalling someone of fair face from her childhood. No, it wasn’t possible. She was thinking about him.
Artanis was thinking about him.
A surge of possessive desire shot through his gut, and his eyelids fluttered shut as he popped open the button on his trousers and slipped his hand past the waistband, grasping his firm cock and stroking it as Artanis touched herself in the washtub, and he did it—he peered into her mind. He pushed past the barrier of it in a form of violation against her, seeing a distorted image in her mind’s eye of him in the washtub with her—as naked as her—kissing her so sweetly as he held her face, rocking into her body between her open legs as water sloshed over the side of the washtub, splashing onto the floor with every roll of his hips into her.
His eyes shot open. Artanis bit onto her bottom lip, her eyes shut but eyelids fluttering, and a sad, little mewling noise got trapped in her throat as she rocked with more urgency against her hand underneath the water.
Mairon slowly removed his hand from his trousers and fixed them. He made his presence known with a gentle tap of his knuckles against the cracked door.
“Artanis,” he called out softly, “do you need anything?”
She stilled instead of jumped, but he heard the rise in her heart as it beat harder within her chest.
“No,” she called back, though it was almost a whisper, “I have everything I need. Thank you, Mairon.”
He flattened his hand against the door and pushed it open. Slowly, it swung into the washroom. He stared right at her, unabashed, his own lips parted as he gazed on her nude body in the water. Her eyes went wide, and Artanis covered her chest with her arms, but she did not ask him to close the door or leave her alone. She only stared at him in incredulity like she could not believe this was happening. Unconsciously, her chest jutted outward, but her arms stayed in place to cover her perky little breasts.
Mairon stepped into the washroom and crossed the floor until he was right beside the washtub. Artanis drew her knees upward to hide the little patch of hair between her legs from his sight, and he knelt down beside the washtub, grasping the side of it. Mairon looked her directly in the eyes, unable to stop himself from biting his lip. Her eyes fell to his mouth, her lips parting in that perfect little circle again.
He reached out for her, laying a delicate touch on her chin. His thumb rested at the center of her lip.
“Are you sure?” he asked softly. “Is there nothing I can help you with?”
Artanis drew in a sharp breath, and Mairon took the moment to hook his thumb into her mouth and hold it open until he captured her lips with own parted lips, slipping his tongue into the opening he made for himself. He pulled his hand away from her chin and surged into her, sliding his tongue along her own. Mairon deepened the kiss until she responded back. He swallowed the soft, unsure moan she released into his mouth, groaning against it.
His hand fell to her chest, grazing her collarbone until his fingers slid lower, pushing away her arms until they found one of her pert nipples. He pinched it between his forefinger and thumb, rolling it between them. Artanis gasped into him and kissed him back, her chest rolling in kind with the motions of his fingers.
Mairon cupped her face with one hand to hold her in place as the other one snaked beneath the water, soaking his sleeve.
“Tell me what you want,” he whispered against her mouth, catching her bottom lip between his teeth and pulling on it. He released it, and then flicked his tongue out to touch both of her lips with it. Artanis instinctively opened her mouth for him as she felt it, gasping in response. Mairon captured her lips again, his tongue plundering the depths of her mouth the way he wanted to plunder the heat between her thighs.
His hand fell to caress her thigh under the water, and Artanis parted her legs for him immediately. “Touch me, please,” Artanis whispered back in between their heady kisses.
“Open your mouth,” he demanded, determined to teach her a thing or two while he gave her what she wanted first.
Artanis parted her lips the way she parted her thighs—without question, impulsively, for him. He pushed his thumb into her mouth while he pressed the fingers of his other hand between her folds against that little nub at the top, rubbing into it.
“Close your lips,” Mairon instructed next, his voice strained as he watched her close them around his thumb, “now suck on it.” She followed his guidance, and he groaned aloud at the sight of her cheeks sinking inward as he felt the suction tighten around his thumb, pulling it deeper into her mouth along the pad of her tongue. “Now, bob your head back and forth,” he urged her next, and Artanis complied, keeping her hooded eyes locked with his gaze and bobbing her head as she sucked on him. “Mmm, good girl,” Mairon commended her. “How beautiful you would look with your lips around my cock . . . would you like that, sweet one? My cock in your mouth, hmm?”
Artanis nodded, a little moan arresting her briefly. His own moan deepened to see her eagerness to please.
“You could taste it as I would taste you,” he whispered, watching her face and biting his lip. “I would feast on that sweet bud between your thighs . . . ” He leaned closer to her face as she sucked harder on his thumb, losing her rhythm as he worked his fingers harder against her. “Eat up all your honey,” Mairon murmured, “dip my tongue into it. I bet you taste so good. I would cover my face with it as you writhe against me—”
He slipped one of his fingers into her tight little cunt, but it took some effort—she was wet, but she was small, even in comparison to his finger. He could only imagine how tight she would feel around his cock. His other thumb pressed down on her swollen nub, causing Artanis to buck into his hand and suck harder on the thumb in her mouth, taking it deeper past her lips.
“Good girl,” he praised her, drawing the first word out with lilt. “So greedy. Imagine when you have the real thing inside of you—in your mouth, in your cunt . . . ”
Mairon dipped closer to her, kissing the corner of her mouth. He felt her clenching around his finger, getting close to a release, so he slowly added a second finger. Artanis gasped around his thumb, and he pushed it deeper into her mouth as he pushed his second finger all the way inside her hot center to join the first one. Artanis shuddered against the onslaught, and he watched as her eyelids fluttered and her head lolled back, her legs naturally widening further for him.
“Oh, I want to fill you in every way,” he murmured, curling his fingers inside her and pumping them harder until her eyes rolled back. “That’s it, good girl,” he cooed as she clenched around his fingers and a spasm shot through her. Artanis fought it at first, but he coaxed her through it. “Good girl, let it out. Let it out, sweet one, let it out. Would you like that? Do you want me inside of you in every way? I could fill you, over and over. Give you pleasure after pleasure. You’ll never be wanting ever again. You’ll never feel empty ever again. I’ll make sure of that, sweet one—I’ll make sure of it—”
He pulled his thumb out of her mouth to let her speak, and Artanis nodded through another orgasm as it tore through her trembling cunt. “Yes—” she begged him, sounding on the verge of tears. “Yes, please, Mairon—”
She did not have to say anything else. He rode her through her orgasm until she fell limp within the washtub, and then he withdrew his fingers. He rose from the floor and bent over to scoop her up. Her arms easily went around his neck to grasp him and hold on tight. Mairon did not care about the water on his clothes or the water dripping onto the floor as he carried Artanis, naked in his arms, across the hall to his room.
He laid her onto his bed, and pulled back from her. In the dark with the shadows around her and the faint glint of the water on her skin, she looked like an offering, like a goddess, some mixture in between. He had dreamt of this for so long, and now it was here. Still lost in the haze of her orgasms, Artanis seemed to be confused—half wanton, half shy. She covered her perky breasts with one arm, even as she slowly parted her legs for him. Mairon stared down at her perfect pink cunt and pulled his tunic over his head, discarding it on the floor.
“Will you . . . ” Artanis began, cutting herself off, fearful to say it out loud, “ . . . taste me?”
“Use your manners,” he commanded her, and Artanis withdrew from him slightly—scared by his tone, perhaps—drawing her legs closed and wrapping her arms around them.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, but he did not like her sudden denial. Mairon placed his hands on her knees and wrenched her legs apart, and she gasped, frightened.
“Use your manners,” he said softly this time. “And ask me proper, sweet one.”
Artanis trembled on the bed, both of her arms now wrapped across her chest. “Will you . . . taste me . . . please . . . Mairon?”
“Good girl,” he murmured, lowering himself to his knees beside the bed until he was level with her. Mairon curled his arms around her legs and grasped her hips, pulling Artanis toward him. When he placed his mouth on her, he covered her whole. He swiped his tongue over her sweet center, suckled on her sweet little bud, and dove his tongue deep into her cunt until she was writhing against him just as he had promised her. Artanis bucked into his face, and he looked over the still glistening planes of her body to see her own hands grasping at her breasts and squeezing them while she drove her hips down against his mouth.
He focused on that little swollen bud, suckling on it and rolling it gently between his teeth, lapping at her, when he slipped his finger inside of her again. Artanis gasped at the ceiling and rocked her hips harder. He teased her with his tongue, adding two fingers into the tight, hot slip of her little cunt and worked her until he had Artanis driving her cunt down on his tongue and fingers as her body loosened with another spasm of released pleasure. He groaned against her clit, and she came again, shuddering hard all over from it.
Mairon wanted her perfect pink lips wrapped around his cock. He released his hold on her to unfasten his trousers and push them down. When he rose from the floor to stand, he stepped out of them. He reached for her hand, took it, and helped Artanis off the bed and onto her wobbly feet—and then he grasped her hair in a tight fist with his other hand and pushed her down onto her knees, bringing her close to the weeping head of his cock.
“Lick the tip,” he ordered, and Artanis glanced up with unsure eyes as her hand reached out for him. She wrapped her small fingers around his thick shaft, too thick for her fingers to reach all the way around, and did as she was instructed. Her tongue swiped over the head, catching the fluid on the tip. It shone on her tongue. “Swallow it,” he commanded softly, and Artanis withdrew her tongue, closing her lips and swallowing. “Now,” Mairon told her, “put it in your mouth and suck it like you did my thumb, sweet one.”
Artanis looked forward at his cock, opening her mouth.
“Look at me when you do it,” he told her, and Artanis flicked her eyes upward to meet his gaze.
She took him into her warm mouth and closed her little lips around him. His eyes rolled back instantly at the sheer pleasure of it at last, and he couldn’t stop himself from thrusting shallowly into her mouth as she sucked his cock—his cock that was too big for her mouth. He could barely fit it but so far. He grasped her hair, losing himself in the moment as he guided her mouth along his cock a little too hard, a little too fast, and Artanis gripped his thighs and pushed back against him, so he let her go. She pulled off of him all the way, gasping for air, but his cock was glistening in the shine of her saliva.
Mairon bent down and grabbed her by the waist, tugging her to her feet and pushing her onto the bed. He crawled over her body and between her legs until she was lying beneath him, spread wide like a blooming flower.
He captured her lips with a soft kiss, his fingers soft against her cheek in a tender caress, and Artanis returned the gentle motion of his lips with one of her own. He distracted her with one affectionate kiss after another until Artanis was rolling her hips beneath him, spreading her legs even wider in silent supplication.
“Do you want me inside you, little one?” he asked her softly against her mouth. Artanis nodded against him, her hands coming up to cup both sides of his face.
“Yes,” she begged, “please, Mairon, I want you inside m—”
He caught her mouth in another slow kiss, guiding himself to her opening. When he pushed against it, she was so tight he had to brace himself against the bed and try again and push—and then he was inside her, just the head. It was absolute bliss, enveloping and warm. Artanis barely, just barely, stretched around him to welcome the intrusion, every inch of her body fighting his entrance. He groaned against her lips.
When he pushed again, Artanis suddenly made an unpleasant noise in the back of her throat, and she pressed her hands hard into his shoulders. “No, wait—” she choked out.
“Shh—” Mairon caught her lips again, delving his tongue deep into her mouth as he pushed further inside her tight, wet heat. Her cunt was like a vice grip, swallowing him whole as he sank further and further.
Artanis whined, hitting his shoulder. “Stop, it hurts—” Her voice broke off.
“Relax, sweet one,” he coaxed her softly. “It’ll stop hurting in a moment, and then it’ll feel good. It’ll feel so good, you won’t want it to stop—”
When he finally buried himself to the hilt, Artanis tensed all around him. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, and she pushed at him again. He covered her mouth with his own to drown her protests and moved inside of her. Her cunt gripped him snugly when he tried to pull back. He could feel her walls drag against him, refusing the release, trying to pull him back in.
“No,” she whispered brokenly, but he only thrust into her again, feeling her stretch a little more around him.
He kissed her cheeks, one after the other, tasting the salt of her tears on her skin.
“No,” Artanis moaned again. He had not realized she had been crying, but it would not hurt for long. “No, please—” He licked her tears away one by one, and drove his cock deep inside her again—blinded by his own pleasure. “Please, Mairon—” Seeing nothing else. “Please, stop—” Feeling nothing else.
Heeding nothing else.
Mairon cupped her face again, and he placed a tender kiss on her nose, moving to capture her lips and slip his tongue against hers, even as fresh tears spilled forth and he rocked into her again and again. Artanis choked back her sounds, her protests, holding onto him so tight her nails dug into his flesh and cut him. “That’s it, good girl,” he whispered, shallowly fucking into her. “Ride it out. It’ll all feel better. You’re so tight, you sweet little thing. Can you blame me? I’ve got to break you in, my little colt, hmm—you’re so fresh—so new—so young—”
He dropped one of his hands between them, pressing his thumb hard into her clit as he felt the pull of her cunt almost refuse his next thrust beneath it. Artanis suddenly gasped aloud next to his mouth, her grasp loosening on his shoulders and the tension in her legs falling away.
“Ah, you see?” He licked at her lips, smiling down at Artanis through the haze of his pleasure. “Such a good girl, taking every inch of my cock—” He moved inside her in earnest now, the pad of his thumb rubbing into her clit. Despite the clutch of her swallowing him up each time, her juices began to coat him in full. The slick slide became evident in the sounds between their bodies. Her earlier tears were drying across her cheeks, and when he looked down at them, it kindled something dark inside of him.
He fucked her harder, sending her whole body bouncing beneath him, and every sound from her throat was both agony and pleasure.
“Come around my cock, sweet thing,” he urged her. “Come all over it. Let it out. Let it out—”
She was fighting it. On her face he could see it. She was fighting it. Her hands flew above her head to clutch onto the sheet as he filled her up each time, and then it blossomed across her face like starlight in a glade, her eyes rolling back and cunt clenching him so tight, he saw whiteness flash at the corner of his vision from the sheer force of it bearing down on him.
“Ah yes, yes, yes,” Mairon heard himself say, though his voice sounded faraway, even to himself. “Such a good girl—my good girl—
Nonsensical sounds came out of her mouth like a melodic litany, and he felt the taut pressure build up deep within him as their sweated slicked bodies rocked together. When he came, he buried himself so far inside her, he almost lost himself there. His release pulsed out of him with a strange sensation accompanying it, like the strength sapping away from his bones—a little bit of his vigor, a little bit of his life force leaving with it and leaving him in a haze of unaware contentment. Mairon’s body slumped against Artanis, and he tried to catch his breath, his mind caught halfway between the threads of two very different worlds that seemed to hang in the balance before him. He could imagine it—her firm, flat belly growing round from his seed with his child, bearing new fruit and new life into the earth stronger than the last.
When he raised himself to look at her, Artanis seemed to glow with a light all her own. Her hair, more vivid than any golden gleam from the leaves of Laurelin. Her eyes, softer than the silver sparkle of Telperion.
He brushed his fingers through the soft strands of her hair as her eyelids fluttered before him, her confusion bright and clear.
When his lips touched hers, he could taste his own slice of eternity on them.